Remembrance
by ink-stained feathers
Summary: His voice, his touch...everything about him seemed so perfect. ClairexSkye.


**Remembrance**

**XXX**

I've always been a sucker for perfection.

Our chance encounter, a mere meeting, would be the beginning and the end. I had always been entranced by him—hair as pale as starlight, the face of an angel, and even his over-the-top fashion sense…he was a diamond in the rough, I knew immediately. I wanted to know him, to unravel his every secret, to be the first to see who he was behind the charming smile.

I guess you could sort of call it love at first sight.

How many days did I simply sit in my kitchen, counting the seconds to his arrival? How many hours were spent in silent depression during the rainy days he was away? When did I begin to adore his delighted face so? Why was I so anxious to hear of him in town, and when did my name begin to have a certain ring to it whenever he said it?

I knew his kind. I knew that it was never worth getting so attached, that, in the end, I would probably end up with a broken heart, doubtless like so many women before me. I knew so well that he was a lying, petty, no-good thief, and yet…

All it took was one kiss; one night; one "I love you." I was putty in his hands, a lovesick puppy, a young fool in love, and he knew full well of that.

…I remember, when I saw it in the shop, how my heart leapt. A feather—undefiled, shimmering, the color of sapphires. Down in the boonies, it was supposedly a tradition to give such a token to the one you loved most. It was perfect…just like him.

Just like the child I carried.

I remember the chosen night. I remember the smile fading from his face as I confronted him—and the sheer terror that came after three mere words.

"I'm pregnant, Skye."

He was stunned. It's funny, what small, insignificant details we retain; the corners of his mouth twitching, his beautiful, snow-white paling to the point where he looked more sickly than angelic. His once deep, laughing sea-green eyes seemed so hollow now.

"…What do you want me to do?"

I bit my lip. "…I want you to marry me."

I couldn't quite tell what his reaction was. Oh, he was certainly surprised, that much is clear; but, his expression changed so rapidly from shock, to frustration, to fear, then to blank that, to this day, I can never be sure just what was going through Phantom Thief Skye's mind at that moment.

The most lasting memory I have of that night is when he ran.

Without warning, he bolted like the filthy thief he was. He had stolen my heart, my virginity…and I had finally paid the price.

I remember the hours I spent simply wandering around, my voice cracked from calling his name, my bare feet bruised and battered. I had promised myself years before that I would never cry over a man again—and yet, the tears flowed freely down my face. I had been bent, twisted, tricked in the past…but that pain seemed nothing as compared to what I felt now.

I remember falling…and waking up in Vesta's home. Nothing seemed to register—not physical agony, or mental anguish. I felt a strange numbness…as if I were just a container for something that had long since died.

I remember the villagers' stares and murmurs as I walked through town. I didn't care—hell, I faced it with a smile. Rumors, stares…I accepted it all with grace.

Because I knew that it was better than pity and fake smiles.

Looking back, it's so clear; the silly mistakes I made, the trust I instilled so recklessly…Even after so many years, I live with the consequences of my actions. However, there is one mistake that I won't regret.

His name is Takeru.

**XXX**

**Aw, man. I've had the idea for this story in my head for a while now, but...it didn't turn out nearly as well as I'd hoped. I haven't written in a while...this is like a breath of fresh air for me. xD**

**Anyway, ramble-esque though it was, I hoped you liked it, even a little. I wish Claire could have had a happy ending in this one, but, well...things don't always work out so well in reality.**

**Hopefully I'll be submitting more in the future!**


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